


I have walked through the valley

by liionne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Demon Bucky Barnes, Lord of the Underworld Bucky Barnes, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Road Trips, Sort Of, Well - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: "Listen, I'm on a very tight schedule here, I don't have time to talk to idiots--""Okay, fine, then I'll just hang onto your weird three headed dog thingy then, shall I?" Steve snaps."Cerberus?""That's what the tag says." Steve mutters."Who even is this?" Steve asks, feeling exhausted from the entire conversation."James Buchanan Barnes." The voice - James - answers. "Lord of the Underworld. Owner of Cerberus. I'll see you in three days, Steve."Steve finds a puppy on a post-graduation road trip. It spirals from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this post](https://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/176662344266/youre-currently-on-a-road-trip-driving-to-a-place#notes)! I was origianlly going to post this as one complete fic, but I'm struggling with it right now and really just want to get the first part out. I've hastily beta'd, but do feel free to point out any mistakes.

Steve finishes college and thinks, fuck it. _Fuck it_. Natasha has an internship in Russia, Sam has an internship in DC, and Steve has... nothing. Not a single job lined up. He's not waiting to hear back for something, or waiting for applications to open. He has _nothing_. And usually, when presented with a problem such as this, he knuckles down and works through it. But, see, he's been knuckling down and working through it for four long, _long_ years.

So right now, fuck it.

He packs up his car the day after gaduation, with a single suitcase and a hell of a lot of snacks. Natasha and Sam both watch him with folded arms. Sam's the first one to question him, though.

"Is this a mid-life crisis?"

"I'm 22." Steve scowls.

"Alright, so a quarter-life crisis."

"It's not any kind of crisis!"

"It's sort of uncharacteristic for you, Steve." Natasha butts in, eyebrow arched.

"What does _that_ mean?" Steve says, still scowling.

"It means that you aren't exactly spontaneous." She answers, cool as ever. "A trip across the country, just out of nowhere? It's not like you."

"Sounds kinda like a crisis." Sam adds.

"Well it's not a crisis." Steve snaps. "It's a character-building experience. It'll make me stand out to potential employers, or whatever."

Natasha sighs, and Sam looks at his shoes, and Steve closes the trunk of his car with a thunk.

"Well." He says. "That's that."

Natasha shakes her head, and then steps forward to hug him, having to lean up to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. "Just be careful. If you get in trouble, I'll drive all the way out there and kill you myself."

Steve snorts softly, but he hugs her back tightly. When she steps away she's replaced by Sam, who doesn't need to lean up so much, but who embraces him just as strongly. "Be safe, man."

"Will do." He promises. He gets into the car, the window already rolled down, and he smiles at them both. "I'm not even gonna be gone that long. It's not like it's far."

"You're still going." Natasha says, though she smiles just a little. "You better go. Before I slash your tires to keep you here."

Steve looks to Sam, who shrugs. "I wouldn't stop her."

So Steve gives them another wave, and pulls the car off the curb. He's not really going cross-country - he's heading for Seattle, not California, staying strictly in the northern US, but it's still going to be a long journey.

For the first day, the driving doesn't really bother him. It only takes him a few hours to leave the state, and passing into Pennsylvania actually kind of energises him, exciting him. He manages to make it all the way through the entire state to Cleveland, where he decides to stop and see a few attractions, and rest up for a while.

It goes on like that for a while; because it's just Steve, there's no need for a set itinirary. Normally he'd like one, but he's forcing himself to relax a little with this trip. He stops off when he needs to, or when he passes something he thinks he'd like to see. He sends pictures to Natasha and Sam as often as he can, but for the most part he enjoys his own company.

He stops again in North Dakota, at a really quaint looking little inn, tucked away from the main roads, and decides to spend the night. It's not expensive for the room; in fact, it's almost dirt-cheap. He's back on the road in the morning, feeling refreshed and ready to go, especially now that he's about half-way through his trip.

Heading through the rest of North Dakota is when things start to get a _little_ strange, though. His car feels like it isn't running as well as it should, as if it's gotten somehow heavier. He's sure he hears some noises from the trunk, too, but he puts them down to his car being a relatively old, relatively crappy vehicle. He promises himself that if it gets worse, he'll find the nearest garage and get it fixed.

And then, his tire pops. Just over the state line into Montana, Steve has to pull over. He does have a spare, as it happens, and he _can_ change it, it's just going to be a hassle, one he was hoping to avoid. He grumbles as he gets out and pops the trunk, opening it up to get the tire-- and, apparently, to reveal three little puppies.

They look like dobermann puppies, jet black and with ears that are definitely too big for them, each one sleeping peacefully. "Hey there little guys," Steve murmurs, reaching in to pet the one in the middle, humming when his fingers hit a collar. Good - he needs to be able to get them home safe and sound. Someone's probably worried sick. He goes to pick the puppy up, and almost drops it -- he definitely gives a startled shout when he realises that the three puppies are actually _one_ puppy, just... with three heads.

"What the _fuck_ ," He whispers, holding the puppy (puppies?) at arms length as they begin to stir. "What the actual _fuck_."

He blinks hard, but when he opens his eyes, it's still there. He isn't imagining it. He isn't seeing things. It's a _three-headed dog_ , and it's blinking six sleepy eyes at him, one of the heads yawning as he holds it out.

"Okay." He murmurs to himself. "Okay. Fuck." He brings it closer, and looks at the collar of the middle head, were a tag hangs down. When Steve can get a hold of it, he reads:

_Cerberus_   
_One heck of a big boi_   
_If found, please return to Underworld_   
_(666)-666-6666_

Steve definitely must be dreaming.

He puts the puppy back in the trunk, and sits down on the edge of it, pinching the bridge of his nose. Is this a prank? Is this even real? Maybe some tv crew will pop out if he just sits here long enough, Ashton Kutcher telling him he's been punked--

The puppy comes over to him, the middle head slipping under his hand, the right nipping at his wrist, and the left sniffing at his knee.

"This is so weird." Steve tells it - Cerberus - swallowing thickly as he reaches for his phone. It's not a very difficult number to type out, and the phone rings a few times before there's a crackle at the other end and a low voice answers, "Who the hell is this?"

"Uh-- I'm Steve Rogers, I--"

"Steve Rogers? Is that supposed to be someone important?"

"Well, no, it' just--"

"How did you even get this number?"

"Like it's secret?" Steve responds, brow furrowed. "It's all sixes."

"Oh, so you can read." The other retorts. Steve begins to scowl. "Listen, I'm on a very tight schedule here, I don't have time to talk to idiots--"

"Okay, fine, then I'll just hang onto your weird three headed dog thingy then, shall I?" Steve snaps. "Bye--" He adds, going to hang up, but then there's a sudden change in the man on the other end, his tone brightening when he asks, "Cerberus?"

"That's what the tag says." Steve mutters.

"Oh thank _god._ I've been looking for him everywhere, where did you find him?"

What the hell was going on? Steve blinked, and then said, "Uh. North Dakota?"

"Hm. I should've known, he loves the lakes." Silence, in which Steve pinches his arm, hard. "Listen, I can't come and pick him up, like I said, _very_ busy schedule--"

"What? But I--"

"I need you to bring him to Death Valley--"

"In _California_?!"

"No, in Toronto. Yes in fucking California." The voice on the end of the phone says, and Steve can tell he's rolling his eyes. "I can reward you, obviously. How long do you think it'll take?"

"What?"

"To get here. How long?"

"I -- it's the other end of the country, jackass--"

"I'm not asking you to come to the Underworld, am I?" The voice snaps. "How long?"

"I don't know." He says, shaking his head, ignoring that little bit about the Underworld. Probably best not to question it. "Like -- three days?"

Why is he even agreeing? Why is he making plans to -- what? Return a three headed dog to death valley? God this is madness. This is definitely a prank.

"Three days. That should be alright. No more than five, alright? Or there'll be consequences. And don't try to sell him, or get rid of him, because I'll know. I know everything."

"Who even is this?" Steve asks, feeling exhausted from the entire conversation.

"James Buchanan Barnes." The voice - James - answers. "Lord of the Underworld. Owner of Cerberus. I'll see you in three days, Steve."

And then the line went dead, just like that. Steve sighed, looked down at the puppy, looked up at the sky, and gave one long groan. He was going to have to change his tire if he was going to make it to California.

~*~

Alright, so it wasn't actually too hard to get the tire changed and start heading towards Death Valley, but it  _was_ an extra three hundred miles in the wrong direction. It was going to add days onto his trip, and how would he explain that to his friends? He could say that he'd decided on a different end location, but he kind of still wanted to see Seattle, and Nat and Sam would only worry. He could explain, that he'd found a dog, but still...

He'd decide once it was all over. He's mostly still convinced that this is a dream, or some kind of weird tv show. Maybe Nat and Sam will be at Death Valley, yelling surprise and laughing at him for falling for it.

But the puppy is very much real. Cerebrus sits on the front seat beside Steve, tail wagging, tongues lolling out. He puts his heads up at the windows, paws at it until Steve rolls it down so he can stick said tongues out, and that seems to make him sort of happy.  _He's_ definitely real.

Steve decides to just drive, and see what happens at the end of the road.

He spends the first day driving through Montana and Idaho, and the second through Idaho and Nevada, heading south. The days are stupidly long, but James is expecting to see him in three days - and he sounds scary as _fuck_ , so Steve doesn't want to disappoint.

James must be insane, though. That's the conclusion Steve's come to. He think he's the Lord of the Underworld, for Christs's sake. He's just kicking about out in Death Valley. It's a lot; Steve doesn't really know what he's going to be met with when he gets there, but he sort of wishes he wasn't alone right now.

Eventually, he gets used to Cerberus. It's like having a normal dog, but there are three of them, and to be honest, it's easier than having three dogs - he only has one dog's worth of poop to pick up, and despite the three-head thing, they only eat one dog's worth of food. He gets accustomed to those three puppy faces and one wiggly puppy body alarmingly quickly, and he kind of comes to like them. Cerberus is at least good company; he keeps Steve entertained at rest stops, he howls along when Steve sings to the songs on the radio (he even harmonises, which Steve supposes is an advantage of having three heads), and when he's tired he curls up in Steve's lap like they're old friends. Steve won't get too attached, though; he's well aware of the fact that he has to give him back.

On the third day he realises that Death Valley is actually sort of big. So on his way across the state line into California, he decides to pull over to let Cerberus have a pee break, and call the number again.

"What?"

"James? It's Steve."

"Ah, yeah. Is my baby okay? How's the journey going? Today's the day, right?"

"Yeah, I'm almost there, but that's the thing--"

"Great! Don't worry about the time, I'll know when you're here."

"...Right. But, see--"

"What?"

"Where abouts?"

"Where abouts what?"

"Where abouts should I stop. Where will you be."

Steve is pretty sure he can hear James rolling his eyes on the end of the phone - wherever that end may be - and he huffs softly to himself.

"Don't worry about it." He says in the end. "Just drive straight through, or try to, anyway. Cerbie'll let you know when to stop."

"Cerbie?"

"Mm."

Steve can't really argue with that. He's come this far; what's a little more driving? "Okay, well--"

"I'll see you soon, Steve."

Another click, and the line goes dead. Apprently James doesn't know how to say goodbye or something. Steve looks down at Cerberus, who looks back at him with three pairs of bright eyes.

"Come on then," He says to him. "Back into the car."

And Cerberus goes, hopping back up into his seat and letting Steve close the door.

"Not far now and you'll be back... wherever it is that you live." Steve informs him, patting each head before he gets back into the drivers seat.

~*~

Once they actually get into Death Valley, _Cerbie_ seems to perk up even more than he already had.

He starts pawing at the windows and wagging his tail as they get into the Valley, and the further in they go, the more excited he gets, evetually barking and jumping and wagging his tail something fierce. Steve keeps half an eye on him as he drives, going maybe a little slower than necessary. James had said Cerberus would let him know, so he doesn't want to miss it.

As it turns out, he couldn't miss - he has to do an emergency stop, because one minute Cerberus is there, and the next he's gone, wriggled his way out the window and into the shimmering desert behind.

"Shit," Steve curses, pulling over and getting out, trying to run after him. It was so damn hot, though. Steve tries to shield his eyes, tries to see where he ran off to, calling for him across the open planes of the Valley.

He's met with silence, though, until a voice says, almost in his ear, "So you must be Steve."

Steve just about jumps out of his skin, spinning around on his heel and then staring, because, woah. If this is James, then every movie stereotype about the charming, dashing Lucifer thing is totally true. This guy is _hot_. Dark hair in waves, framing his face, dressed all in black. And he's looking at Steve with a wicked grin, a _sinful_ grin, whilst Steve blinks like a fish.

"I - yeah. That's me. Uh. James?"

"Oh, please, call me Bucky." He says, waving a hand. "James is for people aren't my friends, and you, sir, are my friend. Or you will be if you have my dog."

"I - he--"

Before Steve could explain about the window and the jumping and the running, Cerberus appeared as if out of nowhere, wiggling with how hard his tail was wagging and barking at his master.

"There he is! There's little Cerbie! What a good boy!" Bucky coos - not very Lord of the Underworld-y, Steve thinks - before looking at Steve. "Alright - a reward. What's the thing you want most in the world?"

"I don't--- most in the world?"

"Mm hm. Youre greatest desire."

"Isn't this one of those things? Like, I ask for something and there's some horrible consequence?"

"This isn't a fairytale, Steve. And anyway, I'm doing a nice thing here" Bucky says, tucking the dog under his arm. "You did a nice thing for me, I'm doing a nice thing for you. No consequences, just whatever you desire."

"I don't really desire anything." Steve says, frowning softly. "I mean - I guess a job? One that I actually like, and one that pays well? I'm a graduate, so--"

"God, that's boring." Bucky huffs. "Alright, sure, a job, I can get you one of those."

Steve waits. Waits a moment longer. One more. And then says. "Do I have to do anything?"

"Just go home." Bucky shrugs. "The opportunity'll come when you get there."

Steve narrows his eyes, but he nods. "Okay. And, um - he's a really good dog." He says. "He's really well trained."

"He better be, I had him in puppy training, like, _forever_." Bucky huffs, but he pets Cerberus' middle head. "Thanks for bringing him back, Steve. Good luck with the rest of your life."

Bucky winks, waves one of Cerberus' paws, and in a blink - gone. Steve gapes a little, looking at the air where Bucky had once been. After about five minutes of that he decides that it's way too fucking hot, and he gets back in his car, turns it around, and goes home. Fuck Seattle - he needs a little familiarity right now.

~*~

It was the next day, when Steve had recovered from days spent driving, missing the company of a certain freaky little puppy, that he got the phone call. It was from one Peggy Carter, Chief Curator of Fine Art at one of the biggest, best art museums in the city. She told him that a friend, one of the professors at his college, had been talking about him at a recent dinner, and after veiwing his records, she'd like to invite him down for an interview. Steve had been amazed, still sort of convinced that Bucky wasn't real, and thus, his promise was entirely fake, but there it was. A job. Or at least, a job opportunity. Steve did have to put some work in.

Although apparently not much. Within a week of the phone call he was hired, and by the next monday, he had started work at the gallery.

After two weeks, the entire thing faded from his memory. He couldn't reason away everything that he had seen and done, but he could just forget about it under a myriad of new things he had to remember, new people and places and faces, passwords and codes and all kinds.

When his friends asked about it, he just told them that he'd gone to Cali instead. Seattle probably wasn't that different to New York, and he could always just fly there in like, no time at all. Might as well really see some sights. Sorry, no pictures, he was too busy living in the moment.

Not to say that he hasn't been thinking about Bucky. He's  _definitely_ been thinking about Bucky. Because Bucky is mysterious, and hot, and yeah he's a bit (a lot) of an asshole, but did Steve mention that he was hot and mysterious?

Anyway, it was never going to be so easy. After two weeks, Steve returns to his and Sam's apartment (soon to be his and Scott's, once Sam leaves), makes a beeline for his room, and flops face-down on his bed. It's friday evening, and despite his new job being amazing, he's _exhausted_. He wants to lie here for the rest of the night, and maybe get up at some point to make food. He's still lying face down when he feels someone watching him, eyes on him, and he's assuming it's Sam, making sure he isn't dead--

But when he looks up, it isn't Sam.

It's Bucky, looking just as good as he had in the desert; still wearing those dark clothes, his hair loose and a little wavey, hanging down in front of his face, and that smile-- he could make Steve do anything with that smile.

Not that Steve's thinking about that, though. Not at all.

"Hey, Stevie," He grins, and Steve thinks he blushes, but he can't be sure. "Just wanted to see how that new job's treating you."

"It's, uh -- yeah. It's great." Steve nods. "Amazing, actually. Thank you."

Bucky waves one hand, dismissive. "No thanks necessary -- can I sit?"

He gestures to the bed, and so Steve nods, scooting up it to make room for Bucky to sit down. He tries to leave some space, pressing himself against the headboard, but his bed just isn't that big - Bucky is still close, and Steve can feel the heat radiating him, smell the strange scent of his skin. There was probably some aftershave there, Steve thought, but there was something under it, something like dust, something that reminded him of the desert.

"I actually came here with... another thing." Bucky says, and Steve's heart leaps into his throat, keeping him quiet so that Bucky can continue. He sighs, and reaches down - for the first time, Steve notices the leash in his hand, and he watches as Bucky plucks Cerberus from the floor, his tail wagging something fierce as he bounds across the bed at Steve.

"He won't stop _whining_." Bucky groans, whilst Steve reaches out to pet each little head in turn, getting attacked by three very eager tongues. "He keeps scratching at his doggy door. I think he misses you."

"Oh." Steve says, looking at the puppy who has now rolled onto his back - one head enjoying the scratches, one trying to eat his covers, and one trying to grab his tail. "Well. I guess I missed him too?"

"He can't understand you, you don't have to say that." Bucky says, rolling his eyes at Steve, but Steve just smiles at the puppy. He _has_ kind of missed him, as it happens.

"But anyway, I needed to walk him, and I figured, maybe you'd like to come along."

Steve blinks at Bucky. Bucky, the so called Lord of the Underworld, askin Steve if he wants to... walk his dog with him?

Steve beams. "Sure. I'd like that. Uh - lemme get changed."

"Why? You look good like that. Let's go, haven't got all day." Bucky says, scooping Cerbie up and placing him on the floor.

Steve's apartment isn't too far from the park, and so they head there, Bucky letting him off the leash to have a run around. There aren't many people in the park, but the people who _are_ there don't pay either of them a second glance, not even the three-headed puppy, prompting Steve to ask, "What do they see?"

"Hm?"

"When people look at Cerberus, what do they see?"

"You mean, why aren't they freaking out and being hysterical?" Bucky asks. Steve just nods. "I make him look like a normal puppy. Wouldn't want to draw too many eyes."

"So he only has one head to them?"

"Yup."

"Huh. So how come I can see all three?"

"Because when you met him, I wasn't around to enchant him." Bucky says, as if it should be obvious. When Steve huffs, he continues, "But you can still see him the same way now because he wants you to. Well. I think he wants you to. And I know I'm meant to be training him as a guard dog, but he's got like, triple the puppy-dog eyes. He's hard to say no to."

Steve snickers softly, watching the puppy race through the grass and pounce on fireflies as they try to make their escape.

"I didn't really expect to see you again," Steve says, after a moment of walking in silence. "I figured--"

"That you had dreamed it?"

"Well, sort of. I mean, not really. I knew _something_ must have happened, I had the miles on the car to prove it, but..."

"Not many people get to realise that their world is more than they think it is." Bucky says, looking at Steve, his gaze lingering for a moment. "For most people, it's a lot. You seem to be handling it pretty well."

"It's a lot." Steve looks at Bucky. "I mean, I'm not even sure I believe all of it, I-- I don't know what I think. But it's a lot. Maybe you're who you say you are, maybe you aren't. But you promised me a job, and I have one, and Cerbie is really cute, so I guess--" He knows he's rambling, so he tries to cut it short, cut down on the dribble. "Well. If I focus on those two things I'm pretty okay."

Bucky gives him another curious look, but he doesn't say anything else. Instead, they keep walking, untilt they eventually circle back to Steve's apartment.

"Are you coming up?" Steve asks, hoping that he doesn't sound too... well. Hopeful.

"Nah, I should get this little guy home." Bucky says, looking down at Cerberus, whose three heads are drooping with fatigue.

"Right." Steve nods. "Well. Um. You know where I live."

"That's true, I do."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean. If you want to come back."

"You want to set up a regular playdate with the devil and his devil-dog?" Bucky asks, eyebrow arching despite his smirk.

Steve smirks right back at him, because he's sort of been thinking about this. "You said you were the Lord of the Underworld, not the King. And if you were the devil, wouldn't your name be Lucifer?"

Bucky makes a face, considering that.

"And anyway, that's no devil-dog, that's a puppy. And yes, I'd like a regular playdate."

"You make several very good points, Stevie." Bucky grins. Steve tries not to preen _too_ hard. "I'll see you the same time next week."

Not very convenient for Steve, but he isn't going to say no. "I'll see you then." He says, though by the time he reaches the last word, he's talking to the empty air, "the devil and his devil-dog" having disappeared back to wherever they came from.

Bucky really needs to get better at goodbyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ah," Natasha grins. "Steve has a crush."
> 
> Fuck. Steve does have a crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very hastily spell checked at 4am, so sorry for mistakes!

Steve has to admit that he's surprised when Bucky returns the following week. Not because he actually showed up - in fact, that's the least surprising thing about it. Bucky might not know how to say goodbye, but he does know how to keep his promises, and so Steve isn't surprised to see him again.

He is, however, surprised to see Bucky already in his bedroom, reading the book from his bedside table and letting Cerberus chew one of his sneakers at the foot of the bed.

"Ah, you're home." Bucky says. "Can I dog-ear this?"

"Sure," Steve says slowly, watching as Bucky carefully folds over the corner of the page, and then sets the book back where it was. Cerberus looks up at the sound of Steve's voice and barrels towards him, three heads colliding with Steve's shins with a force that promises to leave bruises tomorrow. Still, he reaches down to pet the little guy, only cooing at him a little - he's seen the look Bucky gives him when he coos.

Speaking of Bucky and looks. He's still wearing his hair down, slightly curled and falling into his eyes, and of course still dressed all in black, though this time Steve can see the eyeliner smudged around his eyes, and the pants -- are those _leather?_

Steve resolutely looks at the dog.

"You ready?" Bucky asks. "Cause he's only gonna chew more shoes if we don't go now."

"I thought you said he'd been to puppy training?" Steve grumbles, setting his satchel down on the end of his bed and taking off his tie, gesturing for Bucky to head to the door.

Bucky shrugs. "I never said he did well. We all have our vices, Steve - I should know."

He gives Steve that wicked grin, and Steve tries (and ultimately fails) not to blush, petting Cerbie's middle head and reaching for his leash.

They walk around the park the same way as before, letting the dog off the leash to run around and play, chasing the fireflies still and occasionally terrifying a passing jogger. Bucky snickers every time he nips at their heels, but eventually calls him back; he responds, too, which Steve supposes is a sign that he didn't do _too_ badly at puppy training.

They talk about little things, here and there; Bucky asks him about his life, about school, about his job, but Steve is too frightened to ask questions in turn. For the most part he just answers, and ultimately feels guilty for talking about himself too much.

At the end of their walk, Bucky and Cerberus will vanish into the ether just outside of Steve's building; Bucky never does say goodbye. One day Steve'll teach him, he just hasn't found an opportunity yet.

~*~

The summer begins to fade to autumn, and Steve finds that he never has to explain away his late night walks - Natasha leaves for Russia before she can cotton on, and Sam is so busy making sure he has everything for his move to DC that he barely notices Steve coming and going at slightly irregular hours. At the start of september, Steve wishes Sam luck, and thanks Scott for taking his place in the apartment - Steve would never be able to afford the rent on his own.

He misses Sam and Natasha like hell, though. The miracles of the modern era mean that they can still talk all the time, but the distance is hard. As it gets closer to october, the separation becomes more and more unbearable, until one day he walks into his room, straight past Cerberus (who is now chweing the other sneaker), and flops face down onto his bed, just like he had that first night. Only now he has to avoid Bucky, sitting on his bed, still reading that book.

Steve finished it weeks ago, but he still leaves it out. He isn't really sure why.

"Are you going to just talk about your problem or do we have to do a dumb back and forth where I ask you what's wrong, you tell me nothing, and I ultimately pressure you into giving the answer?"

Steve just groans into the pillow.

"You know I can just find out, right? For the most part, at least, so you might as well just tell me."

Steve rolls onto his back, and looks at Bucky for a long moment, breathing a soft sigh. "I don't have any friends."

"Am I supposed to say that you have me?" Bucky asks, yelping when Steve reaches out to smack him. "I mean, I guess you do, but I don't know if we're friends."

"I would say we were friends." Steve scowls.

"Fine, jeez, we're friends." Bucky says, holding up both hands. "I'm a demon, Stevie, I don't often have friends, this is all very new to me. Be gentle."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he does sit up instad of flopping back down onto the covers, and that's not a bad started.

"What about the guy you live with?" Bucky asks, half-way through their walk around the park. "Scooter. You're not his friend?"

"Scott." Steve says. "And I mean, I guess, but also not really?"

"God humans are dumb." Bucky mutters, totally and deliberatly loud enough for Steve to hear, before he asks, "How come?"

"Well, he was more of Sam's friend, for a start," Steve says. "I only ever knew him by association, so I never really got to know him, and nowadays I leave before him in the morning, and he comes back way later than me. Isn't that what being an adult is?"

"Okay for one, I fucking hate that -- _isn't that what being an adult is_. _Millenials_. Draw a comic about it and get over it, Steve. Secondly -- what does he do?"

"What?" Steve asks, still a little stun from BUcky's rebuke.

"For work, what does he do?" Bucky asks, in that impatient way that he has that Stev thinks is both endearing and infuriating.

"He works at a Baskin & Robbins." Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck. At Bucky's raised eyebrows, Steve can only shrug. "He's a graduate, we don't have a lot of prospects."

" _Oy vey_ ," Bucky mutters, before breathing a sigh. Steve thinks he's going to say something, but he's just... silent. Quiet. So Steve keeps silent and quiet too, until finally, near the end of the walk, he asks,

"So you're a demon?"

Bucky looks at him, and blinks. "Who gave you that idea?"

"You did. When you said you were a demon."

"Ah." Bucky says, humming softly. "That's a word for it. Not a good one, but - and no offense here - you mortals are dumb as _fuck_. You can't really have a word for something you don't comprehend."

Steve tries his best not to feel offended; he fails. But he powers on regardless, and asks, "But I thought demons were meant to be, like... evil. _Demonic_."

"Who's to say I'm not?"

Steve looks at Bucky then, with his voice now as hard as marble, and he blinks. Steve has known three different sides to Bucky, see: there's the asshole, who calls him dumb and doesn't say goodbye; there's the flirt, who tells Steve he looks good when he comes home from work and gives him that wicked grin; and then there's just... _Bucky_. The side of him that is almost a normal guy, save for the three-headed puppy and the popping in and out of thin air.

He hasn't thought about the Lord of the Underworld thing - what that means. It keeps him quiet, brows knitting together in a frown, wondering how he managed to strike up a friendhship with someone openly admitting to being _evil_ \--

"Jesus, Stevie, I'm fucking with you." Asshole Barnes laughs, tugging lightly at Cerbie's lead as they walk along. "I'm not out there flaying people, posessing them and shit - if that's what you're worrying about."

Steve blushes. "Maybe."

Bucky snorts softly, but he seems a little more serious when he says, "There's a lot you don't understand, Steve. A lot that I can't really tell you. Being friends with you is probably something I shouldn't be doing to begin with, I really shouldn't go making it worse."

Steve nods a little, but when he looks at Bucky again he grins, eyebrows arching. "So we _are_ friends."

"Fuck off." Bucky laughs, shoving at Steve playfully, and Steve is sure he sees the flash of a blush of his cheeks before his dark hair hides them away again.

Bucky makes his usual goodbye, which is to say that he doesn't, there one second and gone the next. Scott is still at work when Steve heads upstairs, so he decides to just go to bed, feeling a little better knowing that Bucky considers him a friend.

~*~

A few weeks later, Scott suddenly starts shouting in the middle of the day. Steve goes rushing out, only half-dressed and half-awake, seeing as it was his day off, but Scott seems pretty damn excited about something.

"I got it!" He crows. "The research position, with Pym. I got it!"

"The-- what?"

"It's a job, dude," Scott grins, clapping his hands over Steve's cheeks and squeezing a little. "A job that I'm actually _qualified_ for. Degree specified! And it pays a _fuck tonne_."

"Oh," Steve says, and blinks. "That's good. That's great! You should celebrate!"

And Scott does; he disappears later that night with his friends, and Steve assumes he's not going to see him until the following evening, at the very earliest. It doesn't matter, though. It gives Bucky the freedom to materialise on the couch instead of his bed, and Cerberus gets a chance to explore the living room.

After another few weeks, with autumn bleeding into winter, Steve is pulled into Peggy's office, and offered a promotion - yes, she knows it's soon, but he's doing so very well and there's a very nice raise to go along with the position...

It's around then that Scott announces that he's going to look for an apartment closer to Pym's lab, and he asks Steve if it'll be alright. of course he almost freaks out, worried about how he'll pay the rent, but then he remembers that raise--

And suddenly Steve is very suspicious.

That week, when Bucky pops out of thin air, appearing on Steve's bed with Cerberus in tow (who was now a lot bigger, as it happened, and tended to cause a little more havoc when running through the park or chewing Steve's shoes), Steve didn't greet him with his usual smile. In fact, he scowls, his eyes narrowing a little.

"What did you do?" He asks.

Bucky looks back at him, the picture of innocence. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Scott got a new job, and he wants to move out, and I got a raise--"

"Oh, congratulations."

"I _know_ you had something to do with it, Buck."

"There are other people who have the power to give people things, Stevie." Bucky says with a shrug, picking his book up off the bedside table. It's a different one to the first one, and Bucky is reading even faster than before - Steve has to read fifty pages a night just to keep ahead of him. "Maybe Scooter went and made a deal with a different devil."

"Scott," Steve corrects with a sigh. "And I never made a deal with the devil."

"Not _the_ devil, _a_  devil." Bucky counters. "And no, you didn't. For some strange reason, you decided to make friends with one. You sure you don't have a screw loose?"

Steve grumbles as he gets his shoes on, and heads for the door.

Steve doesn't know if Bucky actually _did_ have something to do with it all. If he did, it seems a little counterintuitive to Steve's "I have no friends" conundrum, but maybe that's evidence to support the theory that, actually, this is all ust random. Just dumb luck that no one could have predicted.

Still, Steve remains suspicious, and only becomes more-so at the end of their walk. Bucky puts his hands in his pockets, Cerbie's leash wrapped around his wrist.

"So now that your friend isn't gonna be around, and you have the apartment to yourself, I was thinking I could bring Cerbie around a bit more? It's not like I need a key, and he really needs to get out of the Underworld sometimes..."

Bucky looks _nervous_ , for the first time ever, and it takes Steve a second to process.

"You don't need to ask, Buck. You could have been coming round whenever - I'm really not that busy."

"Just cause you aren't doesn't mean--" Bucky begins, but then he stops. He runs a hand through his hair in a way that captivates Steve, keeps him staring, and then says, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then."

It's a sort-of goodbye, but he loses points, blinking out of existance before Steve can say it back. Still, Steve is sure he saw the ghost of a smile on Bucky's lips as he had faded away, and Steve can't help but smile too as he jogs upstairs, back to his soon-to-be-empty apartment.

~*~

Steve had expected Bucky to come around a few extra days, maybe three or four times a week. As it happens, he's essentially moved in.

"The Underworld is _boring_ ," He laments, as he eats all of Steve's Cap'n Crunch at the breakfast table, Cerberus eating god-only-knows-what kind of meat from one of Steve's good plates, on the floor not too far away. "When you've been there as long as I have, Stevie, the novelty wears off."

"I'm sure." Steve nods.

"And anyway, I go back there during the day. Cerbie needs to spend time there, he's gotta learn the ropes." Bucky nods, patting the dog's middle head and earning a growl in return.

"That's why the right's my favourite." Bucky mutters, but he looks at Steve with a smile, and Steve can only sigh.

"Just try not to eat my entire fridge. And turn off all the electricals. Oh, and don't leave the windows open--"

"I'm not staying in your stupid apartment once you're gone, Stevie," Bucky says, rolling his eyes. "Listen, if it makes you feel any better, Cerbie 'n me can just--"

There's a little clatter as Bucky's empty bowl hits the table, but other than that, it was like he and the dog were never there to begin with. Especially because Bucky seems to have taken the plate with him.

"My plate." Steve murmurs, lookin forlornly at the spot it had once been. He'd probably have to steep it in bleech for a few days anyway, maybe some hellfire would do the trick.

With Christmas comes the - albeit brief - return of his friends. Sam makes the executive decision to drive, which is fine by Steve; one less person to pick up from the airport.

Steve meets Natasha off her ten hour flight, and isn't surprised to see her looking fresh as a daisy. He hugs her tightly, not realising until they collide just how much he's missed her, and though he offers to carry her bag to the car he's swiftly rebuked.

"I hope you put together your powerpoint presentation, Rogers." She says as she slides into the passenger side, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "I want to be fully caught up on everything I've missed, with references."

Steve snorts softly, but he can't stop smiling - he's missed her. When Sam shows up an hour or so later, Steve all but lifts him off his feet, pulling him into a hug so tight that Sam actually squeaks.

"Yeah, big guy, I missed you too - come on, man, if you break my bones my mama's gonna be mad as hell--"

They sit in Steve's living room and talk, catching up despite the fact that the three of them have messaged each other almost nonstop. It's nice; it's familiar. Steve doesn't realise the time slipping away until the evening comes, and Natasha sips her glass of vodka, brought back from the motherland, of course, and grins, "So, Steve - any special someones to tell us about?"

Steve groans softly, tilting his head back against the side of the sofa. "Why're you asking, Nat?"

"Because I've been very forthcoming about my lack of romantic exploits in Russia, and _Sam_ has been very forthcoming in giving us all the dirty details about him and his DC boy." She grins, waggling her eyebrows. " _You_ , on the other hand--"

"Have nothing to say, because I don't have any special someones or DC boys." Steve shrugs. "So--"

"According to Scott you used to go out once a week with a guy and his dog." Sam retorts, eyebrows arching as he sips his beer.

Steve immediately scowls. Fucking Scott. When did he snitch?

"It's not-- romantic." Steve says, shrugging again and picking at the label on his bottle. "It's just a... thing. I like his dog."

Natasha hums. "Mm hm. What's he like?"

"I don't know." Steve says, looking at her own briefly. Gorgeous. Charming. Mysterious. Lord of the Underworld-- "He's nice."

"Just nice?" Sam asks.

"Just-- nice." Steve agrees, speaking slowly, because, fuck--

He's not an idiot. He knows that Bucky is attractive. He's handsome and he has that wicked grin, and the clothes he wears, the way he holds himself - all of it is attractive, but it's more than that. Steve _likes_ him - likes him for who he is. Bucky can be an asshole but he can also be funny, and he really is charming, when he wants to be, just like he can be generous, and kind, and adorable, given the right circumstances.

"Ah," Natasha grins. "Steve has a crush."

Fuck. Steve _does_ have a crush.

"Steve is a grown man who doesn't have crushes." Steve retorts. "You, on the other hand, are drunk, just like me, so I'm going to bed."

There are of course groans of protest, but for the most part, his fiends let him go with minimal fuss. Steve goes to bed, but he doesn't sleep - he lies awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Bucky. Thinking about how much he likes Bucky. Thinking about the fact that he _likes him. Really_ likes him. Bucky Barnes, Lord of the Underworld.

He falls asleep thinking that he might be in trouble.

~*~

Bucky doesn't return until after New Years, once Sam and Natasha have returned to their respective homes, and Steve is itching to see him. He finds that he's missed Cerberus, the puppy who isn't much of a puppy anymore (except for in spirit), and he misses Bucky, too.

"Y'know, I was starting to think they'd never leave." Bucky says, causing Steve to spin around on his heels, grinning as he takes Bucky in, standing behind the counter, already holding a bowl of cereal. He looks a lot more casual today, his hair tied in a messy ponytail, still in a black t-shirt, but now with--

"Sweats?" Steve asks, eyebrow arching.

Bucky shrugs. "I don't really wanna take Cerb for a walk today, if that's fine with you."

"It is."

"And I don't wear leather pants to lounge around in. They aren't loungewear."

"No they're not."

"Glad we agree.

Steve looks at Bucky for a long moment, and then he snickers. "What're we gonna do instead?"

They end up on the couch, watching old movies and eating Steve's leftovers, drinking beer because technically, it's still the holidays, and they can enjoy a few.

But it's the first time they've done anything like this. Just sat and enjoyed each other's company, doing nothing, sitting close. It's made heavier by Steve's recent revelation, and he finds himself wanting to be closer, cataloguing every little brush of their hands, every glance, every smile. He can feel Bucky's body heat, radiating from his skin, and he can smell him, desert dust and aftershave.

It's intoxicating in a way that it shouldn't be. He keeps staring, and he knows that Bucky knows, because Bucky knows everything--

Except that he doesn't comment on it. On any of it.

After a few hours, he stands, stretches. Steve watches as his t-shirt rides up, showing off a strip of lightly tanned skin, and he has the absurd urge to touch it. His fingers twitch, but he manages to keep them settled on his thigh, for now. "Are you going?" He asks.

"Yeah," Bucky nods, whistling for Cerbie, who's been lying at their feet the entire time. Before he can just vanish, though, Steve reaches out, grabbing at his hand.

"Wait!" He says, and Bucky blinks at him, waiting for him to go on. Steve stll has a hold of his hand. Shit! "You never - you never say goodbye. When you leave, you just-- poof. Y'know. It's... rude."

"Oh?" Bucky asks, hands moving to his hips. "I'm rude, am I?"

Steve nods, looking up at him, his hand now safely back in his lap.

"Well, how's this for rude?" Bucky asks, and before Steve can react he leans down, pressing his lips to Steve's in a closed-lip kiss that's still somehow scorching, lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach that cause shis skin to tingle, right down to his fingertips. He doesn't have time to react, though. Bucky pulls away, winking at him, and says, "Bye, Stevie." before disappearing, dust hanging in the air where he and Cerberus had been. It's such a cliche, but Steve raises his fingertips to his lips, tracing the impression Bucky's left behind and smiling absently to himself for the rest of the night.

~*~

He thinks about the kiss as he gets ready the next morning, and he thinks about it on his way to work. He thinks about it at the gallery, and as he sits at his desk, and on the subway home. He can't _stop_ thinking about it as he hurries inside the apartment, stopping when Cerberus almost knocks him over, three wet tongues licking at his face.

"Oh, no, down boy, oh that's gross--" Steve laughs as he shoves the dog ently away, getting back to his feet and setting his satchel aside.

Bucky comes around the corner, still in the ponytail-tee-sweats combo from yesterday, and Steve, unable to stop grinning, says, "Hi."

"Hey." Bucky responds, holding out a mug. "I made you coffee."

Steve sets it down on the counter just as soon as it's been passed to him, and Bucky glowers, holding onto his own mug. "Hey, I made that for you, I had to figure out your stupid ass coffee po--"

Steve cuts him off with another kiss, lips parting beneath Bucky's. He hears Bucky fumble with his cup, trying to set it down so that he can wrap his arms around Steve just as Steve has embraced him, holding him tight.

"I can-- I can do that, right? That's a thing that we. That we do now." Steve says after a moment, forehead pressed to Bucky's, noses brushing with how reluctant he is to part.

"If you want to." Bucky says softly.

"Can demons even have relationships?" Steve asks. "With mortals, I mean." He winces. "Sorry, that's probably fast, I just--"

Bucky cuts him off with a kiss, using Steve's move from just a few seconds before, and the tension that had been building in Steve's body melts again, however briefly.

"I told you, I'm not a demon." Steve responds. "You just don't have a word for what I am. And-- I can. I can have a relationship. With a mortal. With _you_. If I want to."

Steve swallows thickly, coffee all but forgotten as his eyes search Bucky's face. "Do you want to?"

Bucky looks at him, frowning gently, and it's like he has Steve's heart in a vice, squeezing tightly. "Stevie, you're the most ridiculous person I've ever met, you know that? You found a three-headed dog in the woods, and you didnt freak out. You drove three days out of your way to bring him back. You - you put up with me, even though I'm a dick--"

"You are." Steve agrees. "But you're also--"

"No, Steve, I'm talking about _you_ now." Bucky says, and then he laughs, fingers curling in Steve's shirt. "See, that's-- of course I want to date you. Look at how amazing you are."

Steve doesn't know what to say that - there a thousand things he _could_ say, but instead he just pulls Bucky in for another kiss, slower and sweeter than the last two.

"And I won't be keeping you from-- down there?" Steve asks.

Bucky snickers softly. "Down where?"

Steve rolls his eyes, but he's fond. "The Underworld. Will they not miss you? Or Cerbie?"

"Cerbie's a shit guard dog anyway," Bucky says, looking at the puppy for a moment, trying and failing to catch his own tail. "And y'know, my title is more ornamental than anything else. I don't think they'll miss me too much."

"Probably glad to get rid you." Steve teases.

"Watch it." Bucky warns, but he grins back at Steve. "Do you want to date me?"

"More than anything." Steve nods. "I think I have for a while, I'm just -- stupid mortal." He says, and he grins when Bucky rolls his eyes. "Kiss me." Steve says, all but demands, holding Bucky tighter when he obliges him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If there's demand for it, the next pat of this should be up fairly soon!


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